


Academic Excellence

by lucymonster



Category: Bleach
Genre: Kink Meme, Multi, Teacher/Student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Byakuya enters an entirely new phase of his education.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Academic Excellence

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this ages ago for the [Bleach Kink Meme](http://bleachkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/363.html?thread=27499#cmt27499), but the prompt got filled before I was quite finished and I sort of wandered off to do another fill. Revived now because Vorvayne and I have been _killing_ each other with the miserable projects we’re working on, and I thought something light-hearted and smutty was in order. Many thanks to the requester for such an inspiring prompt!

The head of the Kuchiki clan is a figure of immense power, wealth and prestige. He lives out his life in the public eye, the centre of everybody’s attention, and so it is important that he be well-educated in every particular in order to do justice to his family’s reputation. Byakuya knows this well. It’s why he devotes his full attention and effort to every task set before him by his tutors, be it arithmetic or literature, swordsmanship or calligraphy. He has read all the classics, mastered every standard training sequence with his blade; he is already well underway to fully controlling his shikai, and his writing is widely agreed to be the most elegant of anyone in the family. Barely past the threshold of manhood, Byakuya’s level of education is outstanding, and he thinks that by now there is very little adult life will require of him that he hasn’t already seen.

 

He’s never seen anything quite like _this_ before, though.

 

“This is...Taichou, I think you might have given me the wrong book,” he says, feeling the blood rush to his face as a series of new and alarming images continue hover before his eyes long after he has torn his gaze from the page. “This one is...” _Indecent_.

 

There’s a merry twinkle in Ukitake’s eyes as he peers down at the book, and then back up at his mortified student. “No, that’s definitely the right one,” he says cheerfully. “Although I am willing to consider other options if this one is not to your tastes - Shunsui, you will find, has quite the extensive library.”

 

“Always room for improvement,” Kyouraku demurs, with a modest wave of his hand. “I stand by that one as an excellent starting point, though. It includes a number of very instructional close-ups.”

 

Byakuya quickly gives up on trying to suppress the blush spreading across his cheeks - he’s far more concerned with the blood that’s trying its best to rush _elsewhere_ , and he’s so flustered that he completely forgets the air of polite attentiveness he normally strives to keep up in front of his teachers. “Instructional?” he echoes, stoutly ignoring the mental images his hind brain is still clinging to. “What do you mean?”

 

Kyouraku and Ukitake exchange glances; there’s a kind of patient amusement on their faces, which Byakuya takes as a bad sign. “I’m sure it will make more sense once you’ve read the book,” Ukitake tells him kindly. “Start having a look through it tonight, if you can find the time.”

 

“You must take this seriously, Byakuya,” says Kyouraku. “You are entering upon a new phase of your education, one that will greatly influence the man you grow up to be. Trust us, and study this book diligently.”

 

“Very well, then.” Byakuya has never been one to argue over a new assignment, however peculiar it may seem. “But, Taichou...aren’t you supposed to be teaching me swordplay, today?”

 

This questions seems to amuse them both greatly, although Byakuya can’t for the life of him imagine why. “All in good time, my boy,” says Kyouraku, while Ukitake snorts ungracefully in the background. “In the meantime, familiarise yourself with the contents of that book, and we’ll be eager to hear what thoughts you have on it at our next meeting.”

 

They take their leave, and Byakuya is left standing alone in the hallway, clutching a book of indecent pictures to his chest and pondering the strangest piece of homework he’s ever been given.

 

-

 

Byakuya isn’t sure what he’s expecting when he crosses the threshold of Ukitake’s private quarters off the main Thirteenth Division building, several days later. Dutiful as always, he has devoted the bulk of his limited private time to the book they gave him, making no outward complaint of the disrupted sleep or the searing, unrelenting sense of tension that have come as side-effects to the reading assignment. Having already seen himself through his painfully awkward adolescent years, Byakuya is far from a stranger to such frustrations - but the scope and concentration of those he faces now are well beyond the limits of comfortable endurance. He is tired, and frustrated, and not _entirely_ convinced that looking at so much pornography is in fact the crucial aspect of well-balanced manhood that his respected instructors have made it out to be.

 

They are waiting for him in the pleasant, airy room overlooking Ukitake’s koi pond. Tea is already laid out for three, and his two elders are seated casually dressed and cross-legged around the low table when he enters. Such an informal atmosphere strikes Byakuya as odd, but he quietly complies when they gesture to him to take a seat with them and waits to see what they will say.

 

“Well then,” says Ukitake comfortably, as though they’re resuming a conversation from minutes ago rather than days. “What did you make of the book?”

 

For the life of him, Byakuya can’t stop the heat rising to his cheeks at the mention of the tome responsible for all his recent erotic preoccupation. “It was...very informative,” he manages, keeping his gaze fixed on the cup of tea in front of him to avoid having to meet their eyes. He feels a bit as though he’s been caught out in some shameful act of private perversion, even though these are the men who directed it to him in the first place.

 

“It is, isn’t it?” Kyouraku sounds rather pleased with himself. “Tell us, now, did you find yourself especially attracted to any particular images? If you have any strong preferences, my boy, it’s far better all around if you share them with us in advance.”

 

Byakuya stares at Kyouraku, and then at Ukitake, who is watching him intently as though genuinely eager for his answer. Feeling that he’d rather not answer the question directly - in truth, he’s not sure he knows the names for some of depicted acts that most captured his imagination - he opts instead for the most obvious redirection available. “I don’t understand. In advance of what, exactly?”

 

Ukitake’s smile only widens at the question. “I’m glad you asked,” he says earnestly. “You’re probably aware, Byakuya, that you have now well and truly left boyhood behind.” There is a disconcerting glow of something very like pride in Ukitake’s eyes. “You’re a man now, in both body and mind.”

 

“I had...noticed, yes.” Byakuya hardly needs his own age pointed out to him, and he’s not sure where this is leading, or what has prompted Ukitake’s apparent enthusiasm and the intentness of Kyouraku’s gaze.

 

“There are certain things,” Ukitake goes on, apparently oblivious to his charge’s growing embarrassment, “that youth has sheltered you from learning about life. Skills that you will need to call on in your married life and, perhaps, beyond. I’m sure by now you follow me.”

 

Byakuya’s pulse is quickening, a strange gnawing feeling rising in the pit of his stomach, and he can’t quite tell if it’s apprehension or excitement. Ukitake is wearing the same expression Byakuya has come to associate with the lavish gifts of sweets his teacher likes to press on him at every opportunity, and all of a sudden he finds himself acutely conscious of how close they are sitting.

 

“It is our happy duty to offer you an introduction to these skills,” says Kyouraku cheerfully. He sounds perfectly at ease, like he’s proposing nothing more shocking or intimate than a bit of extra hakuda training. “I hope you’ll find us attentive teachers, suitably well-versed in the venerable erotic arts.”

 

“Don’t be pompous, Shunsui,” Ukitake chides him with a tolerant smile. “But yes, that is the gist of it. How does that sound to you, Byakuya?” They’re definitely too close now - a warm hand comes to settle lightly, almost casually, on Byakuya’s thigh, and he feels as though he’s rooted to the spot by the fierce conflict of eagerness and alarm that’s raging inside him.

 

He swallows thickly, trying to remember to straighten his shoulders, not to let his confused thoughts betray themselves in his expression. He’s fighting a losing battle. “It sounds...that is...why?” he asks, stalling for time as he tries to figure out exactly what he’s feeling.

 

“Why?” echoes Kyouraku genially. “Why, we have been asked to! Or at least, I have been asked to. Dear Juushirou volunteered to assist.”

 

“The two of us are accustomed to working together, on such ventures,” adds Ukitake with a warm smile. “In any case, I think you’ll benefit from dual instruction. Our method will require more effort from you, initially, but will certainly redeem itself in the greater repertoire open to us...and, of course, the extra attention you will receive in your turn.”

 

None of this is making things any clearer to Byakuya. “I...see,” he says, and the hand now tracing delicate patterns on the inside of his thigh is making it hard to think of much more to say. What they’re offering - assuming he has understood them correctly, which hardly seems _possible_ \- is making his pulse quicken with excitement. They’re watching him closely, and he knows some kind of assent or refusal is expected of him, but he doesn’t know how to give voice to what he’s feeling and he doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants. And so he nods, mutely, meeting their eyes each in turn with what he hopes they will understand as acceptance. “But...I don’t know what to do,” he adds, and the admission brings dark colour rushing to his cheeks.

 

Kyouraku’s smile turns kindly. “That,” he says, “is exactly what we’re here for.”

 

They move as a unit, as though they’ve planned this in advance - and perhaps they have, Byakuya thinks dimly, as two sets of hands and lips descend on him with dizzying decisiveness. His eyes snap wide open, then flutter closed involuntarily as he feels a warm tongue ghost over the shell of his ear. Firm hands are carding through his hair, tickling his scalp and tilting his head back to let soft lips skim over his throat, and Byakuya finds himself yielding to the sudden onslaught with a soft sigh he can’t quite keep back.

 

“Very good.” Ukitake’s voice is low and husky, utterly unlike the tone Byakuya is used to hearing. “Listen, Byakuya - are you paying attention? - your task today is simply to receive. Relax your inhibitions and let us act as your guides. Can you do that?”

 

“I...I can,” says Byakuya, and hates how breathless his voice sounds. Ukitake’s voice is rich and hypnotic in his ear, and Kyouraku’s hands are tracing slow patterns across his chest, and each skillful touch is sending a slew of new sensations cascading through his body. He hardly has time to be embarrassed at how quickly he’s growing aroused: Kyouraku is already moving to undress him, tugging open his shirts to expose smooth, heated skin to the cool evening air. Silvery hair tickles his chest as Ukitake dips his head to take advantage of the new exposure, and when gentle teeth catch hardened nipple, tongue flicking deftly over the bud, Byakuya’s breath hisses out between his teeth. These feelings are entirely foreign, and so tantalisingly good that it’s all he can do to hang on to the last of his rapidly shredding composure.

 

If either of his teachers think less of him for it, they give no sign. “Ah, the blessings of youth,” Kyouraku sighs dramatically, running calloused hands down Byakuya’s bare stomach with an appreciative smile. “Do you remember when we were so smooth and unblemished, Juushiro?”

 

Ukitake chuckles, and Byakuya finds himself momentarily wedged in between the two men as they lean in to share a tender kiss. It’s not an unpleasant feeling - their obvious affection spreads through him like the heat of their bodies, strangely reassuring for all that he is a third party to it. “Time has softened your memory, dear,” says Ukitake fondly. “You’ve always been as hairy as a beast.”

 

“And you were as clean and dainty as a nymph,” returns Kyouraku with an amused shake of his head. “But why dwell on the past, when we have the future squirming so delightfully between us?”

 

Byakuya bristles at this, indignation flaring up despite his compromised position. “I’m not squirm- _oh_ ,” he says, and then the indignation vanishes as fast as it appeared, because Kyouraku’s hand is reaching down to close around the straining bulge in his hakama and it’s all Byakuya can do not to lose himself to the sudden and maddening sensation. His hips roll forward involuntarily, a low whine escaping his throat as the friction makes his eyes roll back in his head.

 

“I quite agree,” Ukitake tells Kyouraku, and shifts around until he is seated behind Byakuya, strong arms wrapping around his middle to pull him back into his lap. There’s something horribly undignified about the position, and Byakuya is about to protest when he feels it: the hard outline of Ukitake’s erection pressing up against his behind. Before he can process the new stimulus, Kyouraku succeeds in pulling loose the ties of Byakuya’s hakama, and with a few more deft tugs at the fabric he finds himself exposed to cool air and the scorching, barrier-free touch of Kyouraku’s hand on his most intimate flesh. The pace he sets is gentle and steady, but it’s all too new and Byakuya is too tightly wound and within minutes he’s gasping for air and shuddering in the firm double grip of his two teachers behind and in front of him.

 

He writhes, teeth clenching against the moan welling in his chest, grounded only by iron willpower and the slow, calming stroke of Ukitake’s fingers through his hair. A long moment passes, and Kyouraku’s hand stays very still, and Byakuya’s heart beats like a drum in his chest as inexperience and the sheer force of his arousal threaten to overwhelm him.

 

“My, my,” Ukitake breathes in his ear, once he has let out a hissing breath and forced his body back into compliance. “So very eager.” Byakuya’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He’s sure he shouldn’t be so close, so soon. But Kyouraku’s eyes are warm and knowing, and Ukitake’s hand hasn’t slowed its gentle stroke in his hair.

 

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” says Kyouraku. “This is exactly how we meant you to react.” The words are punctuated by one firm, languid stroke of his hand and Byakuya is spinning again, gasping for breath, core muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. He bites down hard on his tongue and tries to think of something, anything, to distract himself from the edge he’s surely about to tumble over.

 

“Shunsui,” comes Ukitake’s reproving voice, “don’t torment him. He’s new to this.”

 

“True enough,” says Kyouraku, and catches Byakuya’s gaze with a merry twinkle in his eyes. “You’re holding out well, you know. You’ve more control than most young men of your age.” Another stroke, and Byakuya is sobbing for breath now, knuckles whitening as he digs his nails sharply into his palms. None of it’s working. His body is moving of its own accord, bucking and squirming under Kyouraku’s relentless touch, and he needs release so badly it almost _hurts_. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, not the furtive touches of his own hand or his hazy, fevered dreams: it’s out of his control, and he’s so ashamed of the way he’s writhing but he just can’t _stop_ -

 

“Would you like to come now?”

 

“I - aah-” The rest of his answer is broken off as Kyouraku dips his head, lips ghosting over the head of Byakuya’s cock, and the jolt that runs through him is enough to ignite sparks behind his tightly closed eyelids. Ukitake is moving too, hard length grinding up against him from behind at a steady, undemanding pace, pitching him forward just that little bit as Kyouraku’s mouth descends on him -- and then Byakuya is gone, head thrown back, body arching up as hot waves of release tear a gasping cry from his throat. It feels endless, unstoppable, and when the last violent shudders wrack his frame he finds himself slumping back against solid, immovable warmth and two strong pairs of hands that catch his weight and stroke soothingly over sweat-damp skin.

 

For a moment, the only sound is the frantic beating of his own heart in his ears and the steady rush of air as he struggles to recover his breath.

 

“Well now,” says Kyouraku, his voice husky and warm and almost soporific in its gentleness. “I think that concludes our first lesson.”

 

-

 

On their next meeting Byakuya enters the room, not with trepidation, but with a hard knot of anticipation in the pit of his stomach. This time it’s not tea they offer him, but a cup of fine sake, and he accepts it with steady hands and only the lightest of flushes to betray his eagerness to get on with the lesson.

 

“Today will be more demanding for you,” Kyouraku tells him, with a gentle sort of smile. “Not unpleasant, though, I think. Learning to give pleasure is every bit as important as learning to receive it - and if done right, just as enjoyable. Are you ready?”

 

“I am.” Byakuya has been turning it over in his mind ever since their last encounter, mentally cataloguing the techniques he had seen his teachers use, determined to impress them with his swift grasp of these new skills. He empties his cup in one resolute gulp, and takes a steadying breath to calm his rising excitement at the thought of what is to come.

 

Kyouraku beams approvingly at him, already reaching over to pour a second drink. “What did I tell you, Juushirou? He’s perfectly fearless.”

 

“Apparently so,” says Ukitake. He sounds pleased, if somewhat surprised, and Byakuya guesses that he’d been expecting a little more hesitation. “Well then, Byakuya. When you’ve finished your drink, we shall relocate to more suitable quarters for today’s activities.”

 

Patience is not one of Byakuya’s innate talents. He doesn’t want to finish his drink - he wants to begin the lesson immediately, before his anticipation reaches an unbearable level. He also knows that he’s expected to show restraint regardless, that his ability to sit down and enjoy the sake first is in all likelihood an important test, and so he holds his seat at the table with proper formal posture and sips slowly from his cup. He catches the approving smiles of his teachers from over the rim, and knows that he has passed. The alcohol helps soften the edges of his lingering nerves, and the hand that settles on his leg beneath the table makes his heart pound in his throat.

 

By the time he drains the last drops from his cup that hand has crept up to the very top of his thigh, and a light flush is spreading across his cheeks as he tries not to fidget or move into the touch. He sets down his cup, and Ukitake and Kyouraku rise in tandem, leading the way through panelled doors at the back of the room into a large, airy bedroom already laid out with an enormous futon.

 

Byakuya hesitates in the doorway as it strikes him, belatedly, that he’s not actually sure what he’s expected to do now. A little anxiety is starting to trickle back in. Kyouraku is already shrugging off his own outer layers, and Ukitake is standing _very_ close, and the warming effect of the sake from before isn’t enough to stop butterflies from erupting in Byakuya’s stomach as he thinks back over some of the more...creative pictures in Kyouraku’s book. The imminent reality of them feels, all of a sudden, far more intimidating than the simple theory.

 

“Come on, my boy,” says Kyouraku gently, taking in the uncertain expression on Byakuya’s face and catching his hand to lead him forward into the room. “There’s no need to be hesitant, now.”

 

“I did tell you he’d be nervous,” says Ukitake, and frowns sternly at Kyouraku. “We’re moving him along too fast, Shunsui. Perhaps it’s best if we take him back to the other room and-”

 

“No!” The word leaves Byakuya’s lips before he registers thinking it, and he feels his cheeks burn as two bemused sets of eyes turn on him. “I...I’m not nervous,” he insists, jutting out his chin stubbornly, because the thought of losing his nerve _now_ in front of his two most respected tutors is more embarrassing and painful than anything that might happen if he stays. “I was just...awaiting direction.”

 

Kyouraku’s eyes soften. “We’re not going to hurt you, you know,” he says, and places a gentle hand on Byakuya’s shoulder. The touch is...patronising, but also reassuring, and although he’s mortified that they’ve seen through his bravado, Byakuya feels a little of his former calm returning. Their last lesson hadn’t been painful. It had been...well, _wonderful_ , and if today is going to be anything like it then surely he has nothing to fear.

 

He nods. “Show me what to do...please.”

 

And there is no space left in Byakuya’s mind for doubts, once Kyouraku and Ukitake’s hands descend on him once more. In a dazed, breathless blur he finds his clothing stripped away, layer by layer in pace with his instructors, until he’s pressed skin to skin between two solid bodies that blaze with heat where they touch him. They lower him to his knees on the futon, Ukitake pressed up behind him mouthing wet patterns against his neck, Kyouraku kneeling before him and guiding Byakuya’s hand down between his legs. He’s soft, but hardens quickly as Byakuya begins to explore his length with a light, curious touch that draws an approving chuckle from Kyouraku’s throat. “That’s the way,” he says, and Byakuya wants to swell with pride as he notes the new gravelly depth of Kyouraku’s voice.

 

Wants to, but can’t, because Ukitake’s hand is reaching down behind him to cup his balls, and it only takes the gentlest suggestion of pressure from Kyouraku to send Byakuya tumbling obediently forward onto his elbows, his face only inches from Kyouraku’s arousal and his hips arching back into Ukitake’s infuriatingly indirect touch. For this, at least, he needs no instruction, since he remembers what Kyouraku did for _him_ yesterday - he parts his lips around the hard length of Kyouraku’s cock to taste the head with a light, lapping tongue. The faint murmur of approval from above is more than enough to spur him on to bob down a little further, licking and lapping, testing the limits of this new skill that sparks an unexpected but all-too-familiar fire in his belly.

 

 _Giving pleasure can be just as enjoyable as receiving it_. Byakuya is beginning to see what Kyouraku meant by those words - and it helps that Ukitake’s hand is still in place between his legs, rolling teasingly back and forth, sending muted shivers of want up Byakuya’s spine. And when that hand shifts around a little more, teasing at the base of his erection, he breaks away from Kyouraku with a low whine of frustration.

 

“What on earth are you doing to him back there, dear?” asks Kyouraku, his voice light with amusement and still husky with amusement. “You’re rendering him quite useless on this end.”

 

Byakuya is quite past objecting to the jibe. Ukitake gives his balls a light squeeze and he groans, muffling the sound in the side of Kyouraku’s thigh. This isn’t like last time at _all_. They’re toying with him, deliberately, and he likes it too much to even protest. Ukitake and Kyouraku are conferring now, in voices too soft for him to hear, and Ukitake’s fingers tickle his perineum in a way that leaves him blissfully indifferent to their words.

 

He takes a bit more notice when Ukitake’s hand leaves him, but by then they’ve stopped talking and Kyouraku is combing his hands through Byakuya’s hair and gripping lightly at the back of his head - encouraging, not forceful. “Relax,” Kyouraku tells him, and Byakuya allows his mouth to be guided back onto Kyouraku’s cock, allows himself to be supported gently in place as Kyouraku takes over the work and begins a slow, shallow thrust. Ukitake’s hands are back in no time, now slick with warm oil which he rubs between Byakuya’s thighs and over his tight, aching balls. There’s still no contact where Byakuya wants it most, and he vents his frustration by swallowing reflexively around Kyouraku’s length, exploring the underside with his tongue, until he feels the head of it hit the back of his throat. “Easy now,” says Kyouraku, and tightens his grip in Byakuya’s hair, and Byakuya feels a hot shiver run through him as Ukitake sits up and settles his cock between Byakuya’s thighs.

 

When they start to move again it’s in perfect time with each other, and Byakuya is caught between them, _deliciously_ helpless, with Kyouraku thrusting up into his slackened mouth and his thighs tightening around Ukitake’s grinding hardness. He whimpers, and when Ukitake’s hand _finally_ wraps around his neglected cock, that’s it for any shred of dignity  Byakuya has left. He’s moaning, rocking back and forth between them, eyes watering as each slide of Kyouraku’s cock into his mouth drives a little deeper. As each stroke of Ukitake’s hand falls in perfect sync with each thrust between Byakuya’s legs.

 

As one slender, well-oiled finger teases at his entrance and then _pushes inside_ , barely moving, just the slightest stretch and a gentle pressure against something inside that make stars burst before Byakuya’s eyes.

 

And for a split second he’s absolutely sure he hates the feeling but then he’s _coming_ , so suddenly he can’t even think of holding back, and the pleasure wracks his body in a long, violent shudder that leaves him almost sobbing for breath around the stifling girth of Kyouraku’s cock.

 

Kyouraku pulls back, and a long sigh tumbles from Byakuya’s newly empty mouth. Ukitake is easing him upright onto his knees now, mouthing at his shoulder as he thrusts forward a few more times, and then sticky warmth is splashing against Byakuya’s thighs and all down his front as Kyouraku brings himself over the edge as well with several short, sharp strokes of his hand.

 

Afterwards, they help clean him up and bring in the sake from the other room, and share a very informal drink still lounging naked about the bed. “You did remarkably well,” Kyouraku tells him casually, as though they’re discussing nothing more unseemly than his latest results on the training field. “You have a natural talent for this, Byakuya. I look forward to seeing the progress you’ll make.”

 

“How long am I to...ah, train under you?” Byakuya tries to make the words sound neutral, but a glimpse of his hopefulness must have shown through, because Kyouraku and Ukitake exchange warm, smiling glances before answering.

 

“As long as the three of us all deem it beneficial,” says Ukitake. “No doubt in due course you’ll wish to marry - yes, you will,” he adds, as Byakuya purses his lips skeptically - “and when that day comes, our liaison will no longer be proper. Until then, you may consider yourself quite firmly apprenticed to us. There’s a lot we have yet to teach you.”

 

It is fortunate, then, that Byakuya has always been such a diligent student. “Thank you,” he says, and sips his sake with a quiet smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “I will do my best to do justice to your tuition.”

 


End file.
